pRuArZpOlReS Edge

The feeling to ostracize my limbs of excessive fuzz overcame me today afternoon. Being the lazy self, my colleague's words rang back in my head 'You have a parlour right down the road!' This is true. Infact, this place I pass-by everyday atleast 2 times, or more. A new addition to the monstrously growing economy of my area, this parlour had always seemed a lil wonky. To begin with, its name 'Purple Edge'; are they suggesting tran-sexuality?! Its at the corner of a small junction, but what were they thinking? The facet which is visible has large blown-up pictures of models, shamelessly picked up from shutter-stock or the like, without the bother of even photoshop-ping the watermark!
The only reason I decided to burn my precious fat through this walk up my lane was that my aforementioned colleague had been there for shaping her eyebrows, and it 'wasn't bad'. I have decided never to misjudge this phrase 'wasn't bad' every again.
The experience began with my eyebrows. The woman doing it lay me down on a comfortable half-risen bed, and started. My senses have never been alerted like this before. I could feel as each strand of hair from around my brow slowly tangled between the thread, and then picked out with a correspondingly slow motion, taking utmost care than I 'feel' the experience (read PAIN). After a 15 minute ordeal, the torture was over.
Or so I thought, since limbs are not as sensitive as the face. I did not realise waxing my arms would be equally ridiculous process of pain. The woman cam back in and dusted on generous amounts of powder. Then she carefully studied my arm (like I was a dead specimen under the microscope or something), and began applying wax. She quizzed for a second or so and then slapped the paper and vigorously began rubbing it into my skin with all her energy and pressure. I began to worry, thinking this to be a new method, where they put wax, stick the paper strips, and the wax peels off, maybe. But what she did was hold the edge of the paper with her fingers, pushed me further down into the bed with force, and pulled the darn thing, like she was pulling it to save her life! I was bemused the first time, but the stick-ons came with increasing pressure. I am fine with body massages, but they are definitely not OK when alternated with searing pangs of pain.
As soon as this 45-minute drama was ridiculous service was over, I found myself in face with the owner at the cash counter for comments, and parting smile with 'Hope the waxing was ok. See you soon'.
Hah! I scooted so fast homewards you wouldn't believe someone can leap with such agility.